My set in stone, unrelenting rule that I was NOT allowed on the internet during the hours my daughter is in school? Yeah . . .
Oh well, I have an excuse, sort of. Many of you know (thanks to my habit of spilling my personal dramas and turmoils all over my blog) that I have been in a bit of a dilemma with my writing. I am, literally, at a stand still--unable to make a move in either direction because I keep changing my dang mind. I have overthought this problem to an epic level, surpassing, I'm convinced, even the most hermetic of ancient philosophers.
Here's a map of my mental processes:
7:30 a.m. Renee awakes and lies in bed for a moment, staring at the soft movement of her ceiling fan. A calm feeling comes over her. Yes, she thinks. Yes, I am going to go for it with Drone. Today. I'll open a Word file and just start writing.
12:09 p.m. As Renee spreads peanut butter on a second slice of bread, she is struck with the realization: how can she abandon Searcher after everything she's been through with it? After the late nights, and tears, and moments of euphoric happiness? No, no, this is all wrong. She has to keep going, finish those edits, submit it to agents!
1:00 p.m.Children are either at school or sleeping. Renee can be found puttering around on the internet, drowning out any unpleasant dilemmas with cold Dr. Pepper and ice in a bright orange cup. (You'll notice, of course, she's not doing any writing.)
6:45 p.m. Warm dishwater and the scent of Pink Grapefruit detergent awakes in Renee the understanding that her best work is still ahead of her. It is something she has to strive for. Something she has to go after. She is growing and she has to keep growing. She can't let sentimentality keep her down.
12:38 a.m. Renee sits on the edge of her bed. The house is quiet and dark, peaceful. She glances at the thick, printed copy of Searcher on her nightstand. Her fingers set over the words, over the frantic red and blue markings made later. And it's all clear to her. She's going to stay with Searcher. Yes, she's growing, but she can put that into editing. She can make it as good as any new thing she would write. With this calm reassurance, Renee nestles down to sleep.
Repeat cycle tomorrow.